Fate And Destiny
by vkf173
Summary: The Room of Requirement works in odd ways, and when two different people need it for two different reasons, something goes awry and the door locks. Unable to open it, two enemies are forced to spend Christmas Break together. D/Hr, rating is precautionary
1. Thrown Together

A/N ~ Alright, this is my first Harry Potter fic, so there is a high possibility that it will suck, just don't flame me to bad! I would love any helpful reviews! Ok, so this takes place around Christmas of Hermione and Draco's fifth year at Hogwarts, and there are some OotP spoilers along the way, but I'll try not to give away anything major (like who dies, by the way I am still in denial of my favorite character's sticky end!! I cried when it happened!! Damn you J.K Rowling! only kidding) and ummm, that's it! Enjoy!

Disclaimer ~ I own nothing, if I did a certain unruly, defiant, caring, very awesome character would still be alive!

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_"His sense of her inferiority—of its being a degradation—of the family obstacles which judgment had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding . . ."_

_((Pride and Prejudice))_

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**Chapter One : Thrown Together **

It was late, nearly ten thirty, and the members of the D.A were slowly dispersing, each leaving the Room Of Requirement with one or two companions at sporadic intervals, as to deflect any unwanted attention.

Tonight the group had been attempting to learn the Annalihatus Curse, and not many had quite mastered the level of control necessary to perform this spell, as such, the entire room was littered with the destroyed remains of several small cabinets, a chandelier, spell books, and pillows that had exploded when the spell caster's aim faltered. 

As the rest of the group continued to filter out, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed behind to clean up the mess.

"You know I think that maybe this spell wasn't the best one to start off with just when everyone is getting ready to go home for Christmas break, their focus seems to be lacking just a little." Harry observed as he pointed his wand at a broken chair, "C_athedra __Reparo__" he said softly, and watched as the splintered leg became whole again._

"Thanks for that Harry," Ron said sardonically, shooting him a menacing look as he dodged the chandelier, which fell to the ground after hanging precariously for a while, it's binding to the ceiling severely weakened when Zacharias Smith hit it with his misshapen excuse for a spell. "We hadn't noticed at all, though I was getting a bit suspicious of just that when Neville nearly killed Hannah Abbot when he preformed the spell with his wand facing the wrong way." He finished as he pointed his wand at several books that had landed on top of the pillow cabinet when the bookshelf they had been stored on was hit by Lavender Brown. "_Accio__ Books" he said, and the three thick volumes soared toward him, and as they flew at him he muttered another spell to redirect them back to their newly restored shelf. _

The trio continued to repair the broken furniture and clean the room for a while before Harry glanced down at his watch and frowned, "Ron, we need to go," He said despairingly "Professor Sinistra is expecting us at midnight on top of the astronomy tower so we can make up that exam on the moons of Jupiter and Saturn." 

Ron groaned loudly, "Can't we just tell her we're sick again, or that some other distant relative has kicked?" He suggested lamely, but before Harry could respond Hermione piped in, "You know you can't do that, if you two skive off again with another lame excuse she'll get suspicious. Plus we have O.W.Ls at the end of the year, and neither of you can afford to miss an astronomy test, seeing as that particular O.W.L is supposed to be utterly impossible." She said disparagingly, her arms crossed resolutely over her chest. 

"But Hermione, what about all of this?" Harry asked, gesturing to the remaining debris littering the room,

"Nothing I can't handle," she replied, and she turned to look at the Marauder's Map, which was lying on the table behind her. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she said before tapping the blank parchment, and she studied it for a second before looking up at them. "There is nobody around, if you leave now no one will see you coming out of here," she said as she pointed to the door and watched as the two defeated boys slumped out of the room.

"Oh, and If I don't see you before tomorrow morning, Happy Christmas!" She called after them, receiving replies wishing her the same, though the voices of the two boys were considerably less enthusiastic then her own.

Turning back to the mess, Hermione frowned in concentration as she lifted her wand and pointed it at the chandelier that was lying shattered in the middle of the room, "_Candelabrum Ascendale," _she said softly, watching as the broken pieces re-attached themselves and the restored fixture rose back up to it's previous spot on the ceiling.

She then walked over to the pillow cabinet and began sending pillows from all over the room soaring back into their rightful spot, and she was about halfway through when the ground beneath her began to quake.

Hermione stumbled backwards, the pillow she had been summoning hitting her in the face as she went. She landed hard on the ground and watched as everything around her seemed to swim and spin before her, everything bleeding together so that she became dizzy and shut her eyes.

A moment later everything stopped, and she looked up slowly to see something very odd around her.

  
The room seemed to have transformed, but not completely. Several of the bookshelves which contained the spell books from which the D.A had been learning for months still remained, as did the pillow cabinet behind her and a single table in the middle of the room that held the apples and oranges that they had been practicing the Annalihatus Curse on. Yet there were new things in the room as well. Near her stood a large, four poster bed draped in green and silver hangings, and across the room there was a fireplace that hadn't been there before. And next to the largest bookshelf there was a desk with a lamp and several rolls of parchment atop it, and as Hermione looked closer at the shelf she could see a number of new books nestled between the Defense Against The Dark Arts ones which had been there before. 

Yet the biggest shock came when Hermione stood up and looked at the door, in front of which stood another person, who by the look on his face was nearly as confused as she was.

He hadn't spotted her yet, and was surveying the room when she spoke, "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked incredulously, feeling a little pleased with herself when she saw him jump severely at the sound of her voice. Yet the Slytherin quickly composed himself and assumed his usual annoyed and superior attitude. 

"I could ask you the same question," he said hotly, obviously not happy with his newfound company. 

Hermione surveyed him shrewdly, "How do you know about this room?" She asked, folding her arms protectively across her chest as she waited for her sarcastic and often extraordinarily infuriating nemesis to reply.

He smirked a little, his eyes flashing dangerously, "How did you know about it Granger, go about breaking all sorts of rules to find it did you? Tut tut, what would McGonagall say?"

She frowned at him, though kept her temper as well as her tongue in check while she picked up her things and stuffed them hastily in her bag, "I don't think that's any of you business, don't worry, I was just leaving." She said before brushing past him and grabbing hold of the handle.

Malfoy turned away and placed his bag on the desk in the corner before pulling out a bottle that contained emerald coloured ink and sitting down, yet he turned around when he heard the Gryffindor still moving about behind him.

"I thought you were leaving." He said, his annoyance rising rapidly.

"I am, but the door's locked itself for some reason," She shot back without turning around. Stepping back, she whispered "_Alohamora__," and tried the handle again, but to no avail. This time she turned around and met the icy blue eyes staring at her from the corner. _

"Its locked, the door won't open. I can't get out"

  


Draco deadpanned for a moment, then his face contorted with a look of grim incredulity, "What are you on about?" He asked, his voice as level and cool as always, "Of course it opens; doors do not just lock off their own accord without any provocation, not even at Hogwarts." And he stood up from his seat and walked over to where Hermione was standing, pointing his wand at the door and unsuccessfully attempting _Alohamora twice more before turning slowly to look at the Gryffindor opposite him._

For a second they just looked at each other as the full impact of their situation hit them.

They were locked in a room.

Over the entire Christmas holiday.

With their mortal enemy.

Draco looked away and, doing the only thing that, at the time, seemed appropriate, and swore softly. 

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A/N ~ So basically, I have this entire story pretty much planned out, the main plot of it anyway. But I'm at a loss as to what to do in the next few chapters in order to get the story where I want it to be. Anyway, I need Reviews to survive! So go ahead press that little button, you know you want to all the other kids are doin it . . .  ;) 


	2. Mild Allusions

A/N ~ OK IMPORTANT NOTICE –I added a little to the last chapter, nothing extraordinarily important, but nonetheless. Also, I fixed a mistake that was pointed out to me by '*butter~cup*,' (thanks for that by the way) I do know that Oliver Wood graduated in Harry's third year, I think my brain must have been on some type of vacation or something when I wrote that! Also, here are the translations for my spells from last chapter.

              _'C_athedra __Reparo___' – 'cathedra' is Latin for 'chair,' so literally it means 'repair the chair' J_

           _'Candelabrum Ascendale' _– 'candelabrum'  is a Latin modification of the French word for candlestick, 'chandelier,' 'ascendale,' **ascend**–ale so this one

                                                   pretty much means 'chandelier go up'

THANK YOU FOR YOUR REVIEWS ~~  *butter~cup*, Princess Of Darkness, kitty, and princessfantasy

Disclaimer ~ Alright, if I owned ANY of these characters, would I really be writing fanfic??

Spoilers ~ umm . . . mild for OoTP (Room Of Requirement)

O.K, honestly this isn't my favorite chapter, I've added some minor insinuations of deeply, _deeply buried attraction to appease those who want Hermione and Draco the end up more then just friends, and I'm hoping against hope that it isn't corny, whatever, just tell me what you think! REVIEW!!_

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_"He was discovered to be proud; to be above his company, and above being pleased . . . where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation."_

_((Pride and Prejudice))_

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**Chapter Two :: Mild Allusions**

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The Room Of Requirement measures approximately twenty one feet in both width and diameter, yet Hermione found that if she sat exactly diagonal to Malfoy that she could manage at least twenty seven feet between them. Hermione was sitting as far as the Room would allow her to sit from Draco, who was seated at his corner desk again. She was perched atop a low mahogany bookshelf, her knees drawn protectively to her chest and her long arms wrapped sullenly around them, and upon shooting him a furtive glance she observed that he had not moved at all, his head was still resting unhappily in his hands and his back was hunched over the desk as if he were focusing on deducing a particularly difficult Arithmancy problem.

It was probably one in the morning, an hour having passed since they became trapped, and neither had spoken since Draco's muttered obscenity. Both seemed lost in their own thoughts, trying to preserve the silence for as long as possible while attempting to figure out a way to escape with a semi-maintained sanity. 

Hermione sighed exasperatedly and leaned her head back to rest on the wall behind her; she herself had resigned to the fact that she would be spending seven tortuous days with the pale Slytherin who had repeatedly attempted to make her life miserable with taunts and insults. She had gone over every possible way that they could get out, and had even looked out the solitary window in the room, finding that it looked out onto the Forbidden Forest so it was unlikely that anyone would see them or hear a shout for help.  

"What about your parents?" Draco asked suddenly, his voice low and uncharacteristically dull with submission.

Hermione's head shot up, and her eyes fixed frostily on Draco as she prepared for a spout of insults concerning the fact that she was the only one in her family with magical talents, being that both of her parents were muggles.  "What about them?" She asked curtly.

"Oh come off it," he said disgustedly, his sharp perception detecting the defensive tone in her voice, "I wasn't going to mock them, there is plenty of time for that later, I was simply wondering whether or not they could help us get out."  

"How do you mean?" Hermione asked tiredly, her voice was considerably less sharp, but her eyes were still observing him with an expression of contemptuous precaution.

"Well, aren't they expecting you home for the holiday? What will they do when you don't turn up at the station? Maybe they'll go to Dumbledore and-"

But she cut him off, having already gone over this particular scenario in her head, "They won't" She said sharply, "I told them last week that I hadn't decided whether or not I was coming home this year, and that I would owl them when I had decided, and if they didn't get a letter they were to just presume that I was staying." She paused for a moment and sighed again, returning her head to its laid back position against the wall,  "I was going to send them the owl on the way back to the dormitories." 

There was silence for a moment before Hermione redirected Draco's question back to him, "What about your parents then?" 

For a split second she could have sworn she saw a look of disdain flit across his face, which seemed to stiffen a little bit. But just as soon as it had come it was gone, and she just dismissed it as fatigue's illusions.

"They won't take any notice when I don't turn up." He said quietly, yet the hint of conviction resounded distinctly in his cold tone, something which told her to leave the subject to rest. 

The two lapsed into a momentary silence before Draco asked, "What were you doing here anyway?" his voice was languidly curious, as if the silence didn't fit his mood any longer and he had decided to talk just for the sake of sound.

"I could ask you the same question." She replied, wondering whether or not to tell him. After all, he was in league with that awful toad of a woman, who's to say that he wouldn't report back to her the second that they got out? Yet for some reason her mouth opened involuntarily "I was practicing Defense Against the Dark Arts for the O.W.Ls" she said, well, it was mostly the truth, she had just left out the finer details of it.  "So, why were you here then?"

His face set in the smirk that was emblematic of his persona, "That's none of your business." He said shortly, his long fingers lazily twirling his wand, not even bothering to look at her.

"Oh come on, I told you" Hermione said in a voice that some would have considered a bit of a whine. 

"Don't be immature, it's unbelievably annoying." Draco replied quickly, and there was silence for a moment as he considered her with a warily calculating expression on his controlled features, "I needed a place where I could do my homework." He said simply.

"You do have a common room in Slytherin, unless I'm mistaken."

"Yes, but it's impossible to get anything done there with two admittedly thick friends talking endlessly about nothing and the entire house shooting furtively distrustful looks around. I needed somewhere quiet without several pairs of eyes boring into my back, and incase you hadn't noticed I prefer to be by myself, so the Library wasn't an option. So I came here." He said reproachfully,  his icy eyes glancing at her only once during his little speech. After a thought he added, "I don't know why there's a bed here though, it's never been here before."

Hermione's eyebrows arched a little in mild surprise, "Before? Do you come here often?" she asked, absently drumming her fingers against the hard wood of the bookshelf.

"Why does it matter?" Draco replied. He had never been one to give away information about himself that wasn't pertinent to the particular situation in which he found himself, it was something his father had taught him, 'What you know and they do not can only be used to your own advantage' he felt himself scowl at that thought. It was something of his father's personal motto, and it had been planted in his brain when he was a child along with several other choice phrases, each somehow involving self promotion, an idea which had always been the Malfoy family's main concern.

Hermione gave him a frustrated look, "It doesn't, I'm just trying to make civil conversation."

"Why?" He asked.

She snorted in a kind of calm disgust, "Because when we're making civil conversation we aren't trying murder each other with our bare hands," she said with a sideways glance.

Draco couldn't help himself, he smiled a little and, in a resigned voice he said, "Yea, I come here often, usually every night. Since third year I think."

Hermione nodded, "Huh," she said knowingly.

He looked at her sourly, "What?"

The Gryffindor just shook her head softly, "Nothing, its just, you must really hate your friends to want to escape them so often." She said innocently as she reached down and pulled out a random book from the shelf below her.

"Yea well. when the topic of discussion with them usually involves wondering how the kitchen elves are able to get the nougat inside of the Christmas truffles one has to find a place to escape them sometimes, purely in effort to stay sane and keep his intelligence level reducing that that of a piece of moldy cheese." Draco replied a bit hotly in a low and dangerous voice that was meant to warn whomever he was speaking to, because they were verging on insulting him, which would be very a bad idea. It was another thing that he had inherited from his father, a short temper and a dislike for any type of criticism. He scowled again.

Hermione looked up at him from A Glossary of Basic Hexes and How to Perform Them, which was open upon her lap, "Why are you frowning?" She asked as she looked back at the page and began to read about The Ulcus Curse, which causes large orange sores to sprout up all over the victims face and hands.

Malfoy seemed to start a little at her voice, like he had momentarily forgotten that she was there, but he responded quickly "Why do you care?"

She shrugged, "I don't, I just-"

"If you don't care then don't ask" he cut in waspishly.

"I just asked, you don't have to be so rude you know." Said Hermione idly, she had become so used to responding to this type of treatment from Malfoy that it was something of a second nature to accept it and rise above it.

"I don't have to justify myself to a bottom-dwelling Mudblood such as yourself." He sneered, his eyes relaxed into their standard malicious stare.

Hermione looked up at him sharply, slightly stricken and suddenly filled with the strong desire to see how his face would look covered in orange pustules, "You know, if we are going to survive the next week without killing each other you're going to have to stop giving me reasons to hex you." She said, her menacing tone overflowing with freshly renewed hatred for the pale blonde enigma opposite her.

Draco's cold eyes just fixed Hermione with a conceitedly triumphant stare, just by meeting his gaze you could tell that he was taking great pleasure in irritating her.

Hermione clenched her teeth angrily, "I swear to God you are completely and utterly maddening, I'm honestly beginning to pity Crabbe and Goyle," she said, and as an afterthought she added, "And if you give me one more look like that and I will gouge your eyes out and use them as marbles."

Draco smirked, eyes now alight with a cruel and practised malevolence, happily enjoying her anger and frustration, "Is this what you call civilised conversation?" He asked innocently and watched as her face contorted with suppressed irritation and resentment. 

"You are without a doubt the most infuriating person I have ever met. I hate you." Hermione said in a staid, calm voice that seemed to be struggling to not reach out on its own and strangle him from across the room.

The Slytherin just leered at her again with pleased victory.

A few moments passed in silence before Hermione's stomach gave a particularly loud rumble.

"What was _that?_" asked Draco, giving her a somewhat disgusted look.

"Oh shove off, it was my stomach, I'm starving, is there any food in here?" she asked glumly, if there was nothing to eat then she wouldn't have to worry about spending a week with him, she would die of starvation first.

Draco just looked at her with a hint of both incredulity and confusion, "Do you even know how this room works?" he asked.

"Of course I do."

"Well then if you're hungry, just ask for something to eat." He said simply in a slightly proud tone, as if his answer was the most obvious thing in the world, yet Hermione still looked as if she had no idea what he was talking about, so he sighed exasperatedly and said, "What I really need are two trays of dinner and pumpkin juice." 

And on the desk before him appeared two wooden trays on top of which were two golden plates laden with steak and kidney pie, mashed potatoes, peas, and two tall golden glasses of bright orange pumpkin juice, it seemed as if the utensils were taken from the Great Hall.

Hermione looked at him amazedly, "I didn't know that you could do that!" She said happily as she walked over to him, picked up her meal, and went to sit at the table in the middle of the room.   

Dinner was a bit of a subdued event, seeing as Hermione hadn't forgotten his insult and Draco genuinely had nothing to say to this girl who had been his sworn enemy since the age of eleven, yet at one point midway through her mashed potatoes Hermione looked up at him curiously. "If we can just ask for anything that we want then why can't we just ask for a way out?" She inquired but all she received was another superior look. 

"It won't work." he said automatically, without explanation or even a hint of reason.

Yet Hermione seemed to feel that it was worth a try anyway, "What I really need is a way out." She said with a hopeful glance around the room, but nothing happened.

"You see Granger, there already is a way out," Draco drawled lazily, gesturing toward the door, "It's just locked."

"What I really need is _another _way out."

"You cannot wish new structures into the room, no new windows, doors, or openings to the outside world will be added, and the room also can't be widened or shortened when you are inside of it." He said, not even bothering to look up from his peas.

After a thought she tried one more time, "What I really need is for the door to be unlocked."

But even before she was finished Draco was shaking his blonde head, "The room doesn't work like that," he said, seeming slightly aggravated by Hermione's ignorance, "It won't change the state of things on command, I could say 'what I really need is for this desk to be purple' and nothing would happen. You can only ask for things to appear and disappear, not change the way they are." He finished through a bite of pie, but upon seeing a new hopeful look dawning on her face added, "And people cannot be wished in and out."

Hermione felt her face fall but her hope was quickly replaced with inquisitiveness, "How did you come to know everything about this room then?" she asked shrewdly, her eyes searching his face for some type of sign that he knew more then he was telling her.

Yet the Slytherin's face remained completely impassive as he responded, "I told you, I've been coming here nightly for three years." He said, and returned to his supper.

Hermione hated that, the way that he could keep his face rigidly blank of anything that might give away what he was thinking or feeling, and the fact that he could control his every feature, deciding carefully whether or not he should let his emotions show. As a result of this she could never tell when he was lying or hiding something and she found it supremely unfair because she knew that her face could be read like the proverbial open book. Why should he get to know what she was thinking but she cannot do the same for him? She sighed a little and went back to her dinner, knowing that if she continued to contemplate this it would only make her head hurt. 

When dinner was through Draco cleared the food ("What we really do not need are these empty plates.") and glanced at his wristwatch, "It's nearly two thirty, I'm going to bed." He said tiredly and Hermione herself yawned, but frowned as he started toward the bed. "Wait!" She exclaimed indignantly, "Why do_ you _get the bed?" 

"Because," he said simply, with no indication that he was planning on giving explanation. 

"Well where do I sleep then?" Hermione asked, looking around the room and finding nothing that would be suitable for sleeping.

"Floor?"

"Absolutely not, if you honestly thought that I was going to sleep on the floor then you are about as thick as your friends." Hermione shot back. 

"Relax would you? Why don't you just ask for your own bed." Draco said as pajamas appeared before him and he began to pull off his robes, not caring that Hermione was standing in the room. Hermione then turned around and, upon seeing his bare chest, blushed a little and said angrily, "You have no modesty, do you?" 

Draco smiled maliciously, "What, make you uncomfortable Granger? The sight of my quidditch chiseled stomach?" He commented, happily showing off like he was playing some sort of twisted game in competition with only himself, the goal of which was to make her blush a deeper shade of crimson.

"Both arrogant and deluded." She quipped, back still turned as he said "Fine, I'll change in here." And he picked up his pajamas and walked into the bathroom that she had asked for shortly before dinner.  

God how she loathed him, that idiotic look on his face when he knew that he'd found some new way of torturing her, the fact that he would go as far as to take off his shirt to make her angry and uncomfortable. It was completely distasteful and so very, well, _him_. She shoved the image of him half naked to the very back of her mind where she gladly buried it. "What I really need is a bed," Hermione said with sleepy conviction, yet was surprised to see that nothing happened, and on the table beside her she saw a small piece of parchment materialize in a puff of yellow smoke. Upon it, written in curved script with violet ink was 'There is no room for this.' 

Hermione glanced around the room at the various bookshelves and cabinets and the corner desk and realized that this was correct, so she said in a loud voice, "What we really don't need are these bookshelves." Yet again, nothing happened.

"Malfoy." Hermione called sharply and she watched as he to emerged from the bathroom dressed in a pair of deep green silk pajamas.

"What? Reconsidered letting me change in front of you?"

"Hardly," she said, fixing him with her best withering stare, "There's something wrong, I tried to wish away the bookshelves to make room for my bed, but they won't disappear" She said as she gestured at the shelves, extremely annoyed.  She watched hopefully as Malfoy tried to get rid of them as well, and then as he tried to get rid of his desk, the pillow cabinet, and the table in the centre of the room. Nothing happened.

"I don't know what's going on, this has never happened before." He said, a little put out that he couldn't come up with the immediate right answer. "It must have something to do with why we are locked in here in the first place, maybe because we both entered the room with two different purposes it kind of malfunctioned and now we can't get rid of what ended up here, the blend of our two purposes. We can wish in new items and get rid of them, but we can't get rid of what was already here." 

Hermione nodded a little, this seemed rational and she was always one to agree with what could be reasoned out with logic, but soon a look of horror passed over her face. "I am _not _sharing a bed with you." She said defiantly, just the thought of the idea giving her shivers. 

They both looked at the bed. It was large, in muggle terms it would be called 'queen sized.' Velvety draperies spilled elegantly down from the high canopy created by four tall wooden posts, giving unnecessary privacy if drawn closed. It looked very comfortable. The jade green sheets were framed in silver and they shone when light fell on them, as silk often does. The mattress was thick and both the pillows and the comforter were found to be stuffed with a generous amount of feathers. The point is, it was more then big enough for two people to sleep comfortably in. Yet as appealing a sight that should have been to tired eyes, in this particular situation the two people standing before it were looking upon this luxurious bed with nothing short of utter loathing and dread.

There was complete silence for nearly a minute as the two enemies looked upon the bed, and then two pairs of eyes roved the room, desperately searching for something – _anything _- other then the bed to sleep on. When they found nothing the two looked at each other with identical expressions of horror and disgust, but then Hermione walked over to the bed and pointed her wand at it, "_Discrimenire" she whispered and a shining metallic line unfurled from the tip of her wand, and it laid itself upon the comforter so that there was a long, glimmering silver barrier dividing the large bed in two. _

"There," she said halfheartedly, "That line cannot be crossed from either side, we'll be fine." her voice attempting and dismally failing to sound confident, instead giving the impression that she was trying to convince not only her companion but herself as well that they would indeed be alright. 

Draco looked skeptically at the bed, but decided to just accept her word as the truth for once and slid beneath the green covers with a somewhat infuriating type of grace.

Hermione watched him do this, and then asked for her own pair of pajamas. 

Instantaneously a mid-thigh length scarlet silken nightgown was sitting daintily in her outstretched hands; its neckline and skirt were outlined in gold, as were the thin straps and it was pleasantly soft to the touch. She held it up and studied it for a second, it wasn't exactly something she would have chosen for herself had she been given a choice at all being that it revealed a little more of her then she wanted seen by Malfoy, and when she put it on she found that it fit her a little too well. Hermione had never seen the point to looking overly attractive while sleeping, and it was in her studious nature to feel slightly uncomfortable in such attire, so she asked for a nice, light, long sleeved jumper to wear over it.  

She surveyed herself in the mirror in her sleep clothes, and found what she saw to her liking, so she brushed her teeth quickly and  then, upon returning to the bed, she examined the green and silver comforter and sheets.  _'Apud me Versicolor ' she whispered and touched her wand to the silk beneath her, from the tip a wave of scarlet and gold erupted and seemed to wash over the sheets and in a few seconds half of the bed was Slytherin's silver and green, and the other half was Gryffindor's scarlet and gold.  Hermione smiled a little and slipped between the bedclothes, she could hear Malfoy breathing beside her, already in a light slumber. For some odd and inexplicable reason the sound of him sleeping peacefully, his breath coming steady and soft, helped Hermione fall asleep as well._

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Translations ~ 

        '_Discrimenire__' – comes from the Latin word for 'dividing' (discrimen) and a modification for the Latin word for line (ire), literally means 'dividing line'_

        _'Apud me Versicolor' – literally means 'in my colors' in Latin._

Note ~ I just finished my first year in Latin, so these translations may be a little rough!

Ok, now _that_ was a little long in my opinion! (12 pages on Word) Definitely the longest chapter I have ever written! And I hope I'm making the characters sound British enough, I'm even trying to write in that lingo, you know with the 'u' in color and the 's' instead of the 'c' practice (etc . . .) to make it authentic! But anyway, you know the drill, Review Review Review!


	3. Aulcinor Ad Me Aetas

A/N ~ OK please don't hurt me!! I was away for 5 weeks, that's why this story hasn't been updated in so long! I swear I intended to finish it all along, I'm sorry I didn't let you know that I wasn't going to update for a while, it just slipped my mind! Anyway, here is chapter three, I hope you like it! please review!

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO :: broom, RandiLynn, Vbabe3, Mari, Jadziadaxx, mila2, Fashiondiva, Bloody Love, harrysgirl, Willow23, dracosgirl, *butter~cup* (x2), Rashaka, Desiqueen, Scarlett8, and three-days-grace . . . you all make my day with your reviews!!

Mari :: ok, I know that they _could ask for a key, but that would ruin the whole plot of my story so just go with it here! And as for a sleeping bag, I know that they could ask for it, but Hermione expressly said that she would __not sleep on the floor, and a sleeping bag would entail sleeping on the floor. And I mean, come on, Draco Malfoy in a sleeping bag? I think not, he would probably feel that sleeping on the ground was below him, so asking for a sleeping bag would have been pointless J_

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_"Of neither could she think without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd."___

_-Pride And Prejudice-  
  
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Chapter Three :: Alucinor Ad Me Aetas

It wasn't one of the most pleasant nights Hermione had ever experienced. Yes, the bed was extremely comfortable, and it was neither too hot nor too cold in the room so the setting for sleep was ideal. Yet what prevented her from sleeping as well as she should have was the fact that at two different times during the night she had been abruptly startled awake by mumbling and talking coming from the boy next to her.  

She would have never pinned Draco Malfoy as one who suffered from nightmares, for some reason such a trivial thing to her seemed below his aristocratic character. Yet, never the less, he seemed to be plagued with the same, repeating, awful dream. She had deduced this from the fact that both times that she had woken up he had been mumbling and crying out the exact same thing. At first his words seemed nonsensical, but she had resigned to the fact that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again after the second incident, and as such had been given ample time to think over what he had been saying. 

"Yes of course . . . I'm so sorry." Had been the two primary phrases Draco had spoken in his sleep, and between these there were various mutterings about his father, his 'duty,' and low moans that seemed to be a result of a dreamt punishment, and she had felt him jerk and spasm a little several times during the course of his ramblings. To Hermione it seemed that Draco had been dreaming about something to do with a confrontation with his father, a confrontation that began with a discussion of Voldemort and ended in his own immense physical pain, she also guessed that it had been his own father who caused this suffering. Yet Hermione and Draco had been enemies for nearly five years, and this caused her to believe that whatever punishment he had dreamt about he probably had coming for something awful that he had done.  Still, Hermione was pure of heart, and as she looked over at the boy next to her she couldn't help the small feeling of sympathy that began to glow inside of her despite the fact that she was supposed to hate everything about him. 

Draco hadn't come around yet, he was still breathing in the subdued pattern that told of sleep and he hadn't appeared to have had any more jarring dreams since he had woken her nearly an hour earlier.  Oddly enough, when Hermione looked over at him she for a moment did not recognise him. He just looked so innocent when he was sleeping, like he was some kind of fabled angel, pure of heart and soul. She snorted immediately and dismissed the thought with haste. 

Upon glancing at her wristwatch, Hermione deduced that it was a quarter past eight, and it was time that she got out of bed and got dressed. Even if she was to be stuck in a room with nothing to do there was no need to lie in bed all day. So she pushed the thick comforter off of her and slipped to the floor, stretching her arms and yawning out of the exhaustion that was a nasty upshot of her lack of sleep.  She looked down at the tousled sheets for a second, before muttering '_Abrogo' and watching as the silver line contracted and vanished in a pea green puff of smoke, leaving Draco with the option of making the bed, though she doubted he would._

The bathroom was actually quite nice; it seemed that when you asked the Room to provide you with something it obliged only with the best and highest quality. The lighting was soft and subdued and helped to encourage the room's peaceful atmosphere. The floor was made of sandy coloured tiles and there were 'his and hers' sinks before a large, regally framed mirror.  On the marble topped counters around the sinks Hermione saw that all of the essential toiletries had been provided, two toothbrushes and a tube of fresh toothpaste were sitting next to a large brush, a comb and, to her utter dismay, a large pot of styling gel obviously meant for Draco's perpetually inflated, sleek blonde head. The bathtub resembled the one in the prefect's bathroom, large enough to be a small swimming pool with various taps around the edge, each undoubtedly emitting a different type of bubble bath or soapy lather. There was a shower in the corner with a door made of textured glass, yet it wasn't like the showers in the non-magic world. Instead this one had at least twelve different spigots that would move about on their own accord so the person who was showering would be jetted with water from all sides, and the walls and floor were all made of a metallic material that seemed like a course type of mirror making it so you could see yourself at all angles. In all honesty Hermione found this particular attribute of the shower a bit disconcerting, she had never been so self involved that she enjoyed seeing herself at all times, especially while showering, yet she smirked a little as she thought how suited it was to Malfoy, who she knew was just that self centred.

Hermione brushed her teeth quickly and had just begun to sort out her sleep-knotted hair when she heard stirring in the other room. She walked softly to the bathroom door and looked out at her companion. Malfoy was sitting on the edge of the bed facing her, his feet resting idly on the floor in the same manner that his hands were sitting by his sides, his eyes were dull and tired and, to Hermione, he seemed to look much less like himself in the mornings. He obviously wasn't the stereotypical 'morning person,' his face and really his entire posture were relaxed from fatigue instead of etched into their usual pompous appearance and she noticed that circles of weariness rested under his eyes and his unkempt hair was hanging lazily about his face instead of smoothed carefully back. She couldn't exactly explain it, but the fact that he no longer appeared physically flawless made him seem more real to her, more like a normal person and less like he was eternally posed. She looked him over again, and it dawned on her how washed-out he looked, his face seemed drawn and his eyelids sagged slightly, as if he hadn't had much sleep last night and, upon remembering his nasty nightmare, Hermione almost felt sorry for him.

"Is there a reason why you are staring at me mudblood?" he asked uncaringly as he lifted himself off of the bed and began to walk in her direction.

Almost.

Hermione's face stiffened angrily, but it was early and she wasn't nearly as witty as she would be later and consequently was in no state for snappish arguing, so she contented herself with wheeling about on her heel and slamming the bathroom door in his smug face with a sigh and an exaggerated roll of her eyes. 

Hermione derived great pleasure from taking as long as possible to bathe and get dressed in a set of fresh black robes, wishing her nightgown away and drying her hair carefully. It was so enjoyable for her because of the fact that she could hear Draco grumbling and complaining from the other side of the closed door. He obviously hated being delayed from his morning rituals and, from what she could hear, 'needed to use the bloody toilet so hurry the hell up.' She just smiled spitefully, relishing the victorious feeling of subtle payback.

After nearly forty five minutes, Hermione threw open the door and walked out of the bathroom, pausing to smile innocently at Draco as he brushed haughtily past her, mumbling something about inaudible yet in such a rude tone that Hermione was sure that the word 'mudblood' must have been used at least once, more knowing Draco. 

As it turned out, Draco took nearly as long as Hermione in the bathroom, and when he did finally step out it seemed as if he was expecting some type of applause for his immaculate appearance. If she hadn't been able to mentally list six or seven girls that she knew he was seeing, then she would have thought he was gay. No normal, straight man spends that long making sure that he looks fantastic, most of them are more versed in the art of falling out of bed, walking out the door, and calling their tousled appearance a new trend to be followed. 

There was no conversation during breakfast, none at all. The silence rested like a thick quilt, smothering any inclinations to speak in its deep folds even before they reached the back of the tongue. The two teenagers just sat and noiselessly ate their eggs and bacon, focusing solely on their task and barely even glancing at the other. It was only after breakfast, when there was nothing else to do, that Hermione chanced an attempt to stir up whatever weak conversation was possible between two enemies.

It took a while for her to draw up the courage to speak to him, not because she was afraid or intimidated by the blonde Slytherin, but more that she was extremely tired and wasn't sure if she wanted to get in an argument or listen to his arrogant rants. Yet she had wanted to mention this to him since she woke up, and curiosity as to how he would answer was what eventually drove her to speak.

"I never would have thought of you as one who had nightmares." She said simply, hoping to seem nonchalant as she absently traced figures on a piece of parchment with her wand and watching as the enchanted cartoons ran around beneath her, not daring to meet his eyes but sensing his head shoot up to stare at her. She had to be very, very careful if she wanted to get and actual answer, Malfoy's temper was infamous, he ignited like petrol if provoked or insulted. 

"I don't." Draco replied shortly, going back to doing the Ancient Runes translation that he had brought with him to do the night before.

Now Hermione looked at him, "I didn't sleep last night." She said quietly, and when he did nothing to indicate he had even heard her she pressed forward, "I heard you." She whispered, "You kept me awake." Her tone was cautious and delicately probing, her words just fanning the boy before they fell away and evaporated, like she was afraid if she spoke even slightly louder or seemed at all accusatory that he would ignite into a type of furious rage and completely close off. Even so, she had no idea why she was speaking _this_ gently to he whom she despised; it was beyond caution and more like tenderness. Hermione simply dismissed it as her own sense of compassion for anyone, even a smarmy git, who was upset or suffering. Still, she shouldn't care if he sneered at her and she shouldn't want to know why he dreamt of such things, but she did.

He heard every word she said, but Draco still didn't reply, he was silently and methodically doing his work, keeping his mouth in check, and praying that she would just leave the subject to rest. He knew what he had been dreaming about last night, it was the same thing he dreamed about every other night, and unlike most he always could recall every detail of his dreams, every single aspect be it ever so small or trivial. He could remember the vicious gleam in his father's hateful eyes, the cold rain that cascaded around him in violent torrents, soaking his robes and blurring his vision, the indescribable pain icily burning within him at just a single word. Absentmindedly his fingers rose to the topmost region of his chest just below the collarbone, tenderly fingering the scar there. Everything had been so vivid in that particular dream not because it was a sadistic nightmare, no, it was a memory;  a memory that plagued him only at night when his subconscious was most susceptible to drift to the deepest branches of his mind and recall that which he buried when he was awake.  

 Hermione sat completely still, fascinated by what was happening before her. The Slytherin's face was no longer emotionless, more like quite the opposite. He did not look vulnerable, more so tired, exhausted from holding up a mask before his face whenever he was with other people and exhausted from the years he had not yet lived but knew what was to fill them. The moment she told him she had heard him the night before he seemed to forget she was even there and his eyes glassed over and focused on nothing in particular, as if what she had said had provoked a memory to come forth and make itself known, and now emotions were flitting across his face at an extremely rapid pace . . .

 . . . Fear

. . . Hatred

. . . Capitulation

. . . Pain

. . . Sorrow

Yet as quickly as it had happened it was over, "Well I'm so, so _sorry _if I've inconvenienced you, god only knows how much beauty sleep you require to look halfway decent, I apologise for disturbing you." Malfoy had seemingly come back to the present and spoke with nothing short of abhorrence, but his eyes gave him away, they were still blazing with the reminiscence of emotion, the hatred he aimed at her was forced and his strained sarcasm fell bland on her ears. This sudden abnormality in Malfoy's behavior had sparked the fire of curiosity even brighter within Hermione, and she dismissed his insult without a second thought. She reviled him, yes, but that didn't stop her from wanting to understand him.

"What were you dreaming about?" She asked, though the inquiry was pointless, she already somewhat knew what it had been and it seemed he was aware of this. 

"Don't ask questions to which you already know the answer." He said in an attempt to be scathing, "You said you heard what I was saying." But again his voice failed him, he had no idea why, but he couldn't seem to muster the strength that hate required at the moment, it was like a prolonged flicker of weakness, if his father knew what his son was experiencing he would have been disowned. Malfoys are not weak. Never weak. 

Hermione just looked at him, more then slightly confused with the conflict in his conduct, "Why do you dream about that."

"Why do you care?" He said, his voice no longer even trying to be sharp.

"I don't"

"I've told you once already; do not ask if you do not care." He said, returning to his translation. 

Hermione sighed in exasperation, "Fine, I _care_ now, if you please, answer my question."

"Don't lie to me Granger, you don't care you're just too nosy to let something like this go." Malfoy said, pausing for a minute while he leaned back in his chair and surreptitiously rubbed his tired eyes. When all four legs of the antique, mahogany chair were back on the ground Draco folded his arms and fixed his eyes on Hermione, who was perched atop the same old bookshelf. She squirmed a little uncomfortably under his scrutinizing stare, something that she knew the Slytherin noticed yet he didn't make some lewd comment, nor did he insult her as she had expected. Instead he bent his head down and resumed translating the Runic into English. 

It had been nearly a minute before he spoke, slowly and calculatedly with a hint of his usual lazy drawl, "I do not dream. I remember." 

Hermione hadn't moved when he had spoken, but she had heard every word. She rolled her eyes, now what the hell did _that _mean? Damn him for being so annoyingly cryptic. 

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_It was dark outside. The foreboding sky was coloured deep purple, and menacing thunderheads were towering like broad-shouldered giants over the horizon. It was silent as well, there seemed to be no one left on Earth tonight, save for himself. Not a cricket sang nor did a mosquito buzz, the wolves in the forest did not howl, yet the moon was full and inviting to them, even the wind, which should have been roaring in his ears at this velocity, seemed to have lost it's voice. Indeed, the only thing that was heard was the sound of Draco's feet as they trudged expectantly over the gravel path toward the guest house that his father used as a study and a place to escape the narcissistic blonde stick insect that was his mother._

_He knew what was coming, he had been waiting for it all day, and so when Lorry had knocked timidly on his door and told him, in a voice that seemed to pale as it stood in the shadow of it's young master, that his father had summoned him to the study he had barely flinched. Instead he drew himself elegantly from behind his desk and descended the floors of Malfoy Manor with the stiffly proud air of a condemned man taking his final walk. Yet now that he stood before the large oaken door, he felt his resolve beginning to ebb away. It started to rain lightly around him. _

_Draco lifted a determined hand to the gold embossed crest on the door and crashed the knocker down four times in quick succession before stepping back and bracing himself._

_Lucius Malfoy appeared suddenly, darkening the doorway with his austere posture as he glared down at his son, who seemed so much like himself. Yet at the moment he was angry. In better terms, he was murderous and had it not been for his wife, who had some type of motherly attachment to the boy, he may well have acted on his emotions. _

_Two days and a night had passed since he had returned from Romania, where he had been scouting for defected Death Eaters; cowards who had not been loyal enough to return to their master's side when he had called for them. And what had happened in those two days? Well he had been questioned and defied by his only son. _

_"I assume you know why you are here, Draco?"_

_Draco did not move, every muscle in his body was buzzing in wary anticipation. 'Dear God just do it . . . please just do it quickly . . .' he thought nervously_

_"You have disgraced me son, how dare you fail? How dare you question your father" Lucius began his voice low and ominous, brimming with disgust and rumbling with the intimidation that rivaled the thunderclouds overhead._

_"I am always right, you on the other hand are young and naïve. Do you understand what lies I have had to tell our Lord so that he wouldn't murder you himself? You have shamed not only me, but all of us. It was your test Draco. It was simple. She is a _mudblood_." He spat the last word as if it stung his mouth to even speak it._

_It had begun to rain harder now, Draco's robes were getting wetter by the minute as he felt himself beginning to sag under the weight of the downpour of both cold rain and words piled atop him by his father. Yet he didn't flinch, he was barely breathing._

_"All you had to do while I was away was kill her, how hard could it have been? You are competent enough; this should have been child's play. How dare you defy our Lord." He finished, his cold silver eyes steeling over and penetrating Draco with a glare that could have frozen the weak of mind into an icy statue._

_'This is it. Show no emotion. Do not let him see you flinch. Do not let him win.'_

_'Crucio' Lucius hissed, his wand pointed directly at his son's chest._

_Draco gasped in pain as his knees buckled immediately and he was on his back, his legs folded beneath him and his hands gripping the wet grass. It was indescribable, utter, consuming, agony. He could scarcely breathe as what felt like a thousand white hot daggers were being driven through his body, and then it was like an explosion from within, his mind went numb and he focused solely on not screaming out in absolute anguish. Dear god it was like fireworks shooting off in his chest. _

_Show no emotion. Don't let him see you flinch. Do not let him win._

_Lucius watched with sick pleasure as his son twitched and spasmed at his feet. The pale, aristocratic boy's face was screwed up in such pain and torment he seemed to be wishing for death to come quickly and put a stop to this. Yet he wouldn't lift his wand, he would not remove the curse until he had defeated his own son._

_"Lucius!"___

_A tall blonde woman was streaking toward him from the wide open door of the Manor._

_She stopped as she reached her husband and yelled at him through the pouring, icy rain, "Lucius that is enough. Look at him! Stop this; you are carrying on to long." She said as she tried to grab the wand but the blonde man held out his left arm to stop her._

_"He must learn his lesson." He said firmly, his wand arm still stiffly pointed at the boy on the ground._

_Draco's mind was now reeling, his whole body shaking as if it were being torn up from the inside out. _

_Show no emotion. Don't let him win. Don't cry out. Oh Dear **God.**_

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_This had never happened before. All of the thousands of times that he had been punished he had never felt this. The Cruciatus Curse was not supposed to leave physical marks, but just then he screamed out loud in such anguish that both adults started a little. It had felt like his chest had literally cracked open, and from just below his collar bone there was such a blinding pain that when he opened his eyes all he saw was a throbbing white and blue light, his vision completely distorted. _

_Lucius Malfoy smiled savagely as he stood above his son. He lifted his arm the moment the boy had showed his capitulation by crying out, and watched as the long body before him relaxed in defeat. He paused as he began to turn back to his study, "You have one year to redeem yourself Draco. At the time of the next initiation you will either be ready to kill that foul mudblood or you will die." He whispered venomously, but he was not finished yet, "At **my** hands." There, now he was done. The man turned sharply on his heel and walked back into the guest house. _

_Narcissa__ Malfoy stood above her prostrate son and just gazed upon him with a blank expression before saying curtly, "You are lucky he didn't kill you. The elf will be out momentarily to get you to your bed." And with that she turned and glided back into the manor._

_Draco just laid there for what seemed like eternity, white lights still blinking before his dazed eyes as the rain pounded down on his face and robes, soaking him through but he didn't notice, he could feel nothing save for the pain on his chest. It wasn't supposed to work like that, there wasn't supposed to be any type of lasting damage, the pain was supposed to stop the second the curse was lifted. Every other time it had stopped and he had been fine. _

_Draco slowly brought his hand to his chest and felt the sticky warmth of blood, and in the feeble light from the garden fairies he could see that the hand that had touched his robes was deep scarlet. Draco coughed harshly and he sat up using all the energy he had. Looking to his left and seeing the elf Lorry kneeling bedside him, holding his hands over Draco's cut. The elf delicately pulled up the black robes the boy was wearing and held out a bandage that sprung to life and wrapped itself around Draco's middle, covering the wound which spanned the entire width of this chest. "Young Master must go to bed now please." Said the timid elf quietly, lifting his hands to levitate Draco to his room.  _

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Hermione Granger's eyes shot open and she sat bolt upright in bed so quickly that you would have thought she had been electrified. She was breathing fast and hard, gasping in air as if she had been submerged in the frigid ocean without a breath to sustain her.

Yet the part that disturbed her the most was the fact that her body was still tingling from the effects of the curse, she was still shivering from the cold of the rain, she could still feel the blood on her hands and she was still seeing stars. It had all been so _real. _

Then it occurred to her.

Perhaps it was.

_"I do not dream. I remember." _

She could still hear his voice distinctly, echoing through her brain.

 Slowly she looked down at her hand. It was sitting atop a long, pale arm and where the two bodies touched there was this magnetic heat that seemed to bind them together. She felt her mouth open in shock as she realized that she was touching him. That had been _his dream, the very same dream that had plagued him the night before._

His _memory.___

Slowly, the two rivals looked down in realization, in their haste to escape each other for the comfort of sleep they had forgotten to place the Divider Charm on the bed. Suddenly the arm jerked away and she looked sharply up at Malfoy. He was lying stock still, his normally placid face slack with utter astonishment and horror, he knew what she had seen. __

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A/N Alright, there it is, I'm not sure I really like it but whatever! Please Review! 

_Alucinor__ Ad Me Aetas – Latin; roughly translated it means 'Dream Of My Life' . . . I think.___

_Abrogo__ – Latin for 'to remove'___


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